


court duo

by bone_bed



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Angst (sometimes), Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-28 19:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bone_bed/pseuds/bone_bed
Summary: a pandering collection of one-shots for a court magician (seam) and court jester (jevil).





	1. to you, to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a funny man steps out of his little freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-fight; act

Away, away, locked and very much away.

His old friend, his old companion. That was the situation that he had met so long ago. Never minding the magnificent burden that tightened his strings, the worn doll reorganized his stock; a card here, a candy there. Perhaps reversed, a different order, place it over there, under this and over that. Busywork, busywork. All done today. There was seldom activity, and aside from the three that had passed earlier, it was another dark, hollow day.

The very core of his cotton was resigned to it all. In what sense would there be to have hopes for an event that may never occur? The end, the end, it was all too soon approaching. It was his own paws that had brought him to this state; well-deserved, un-so, it was all arguable. He hadn't wanted; it was not his choice.

But, a part of him did wonder what came of the jester thereafter.

A part of him already knew.

His tired gaze lingered through the entrance of his "Seap," button eye circling once, twice, his sigh following the gentle breeze that swept gracefully across the bowing grass. The hint of warmth he'd long forgotten settling in his heart; the uneasy grip of cold he'd kept to reason past emotion. Even if the man were to have been freed, rather, became a visitor to the prison they presided in, was it so likely that he would visit? Truly, after all these years? When it was he himself that locked him away? Such actions were unjustifiable (but they were), and such thoughts were illogical (but he still wished).

"Ueeheehee!"

Had he finally lost it?

"Missed me? I missed you, you!"

He had not lost it.

Soaring, soaring, blinking, the cat stepped back upon the jester's arrival, who skipped hurriedly to the counter with his cape trailing behind and bells ringing joy. Jevil hoisted himself up and threw his legs over. Clapped his hands together, dropped them into his lap, laughed without a tail to flicker. Then with a tilted head, he'd hum, "I'm all tired out!"

Seam considered him with a kind of puzzlement, pausing, his frame easing. Him, it was him. "...Jevil," he nodded. "It has been much too long." He would tuck his arms behind his back, tuck his wonders close.

"It has!" It would have been longer, had he not been dragged out to the cat by a particular Lightner. Not that he had regretted it, no. It was lovely to see everything outside his freedom once more. With a pout suddenly stretching across his features, he'd reach out and poke the other's forehead upon the small black patch. When the cat raised his paw, he'd only sit back and keep his hands close to himself. "It was lonely when you locked yourself away with the rest, old shopkeeper," he said gently.

"Yet here we are now."

"And what fun it is to be in company of others."

Then there, a small, sinking silence that was damning all in itself.

Yet they both had endured the distance long enough, had endured enough of any bittersweet feelings that came about their separation. It was much too uncomfortable to bear such uncharacteristic behavior from either side. Use, no use, what meaning would there be in waiting?

Dragging his paw across the scuffed counter, Seam would turn around and look about his shop, glancing over his shoulder. "Would you like to play a game with me, Jevil?"

So there!

Oh, how the jester beamed brightly, his uneasiness much diminished. It was still there, but quite outweighed by the thought of being able to play a simple game, a game! With the doll, no less! "Of course, of course!" Jevil laughed, suddenly spinning afloat with his arms spread widely in an arc. "What game shall we play today, today!"

And how he loved the implication that this would not be their second last game. In facing him, Seam brought forth a grand deck of cards. Standardized, none of the cards removed (except the rules one in courtesy-ethe of Rouxls, set-eth aside elsewhere). Much too worn, but quite cared for in all its use. What else could it have been? Though there were other objects lying about, these simply had an innumerable amount of combinations to be used in, and a marvelous amount of ways.

"Now,” he began shuffling, “you recall my former status.”

"Oh—!" Kicking his feet up with a gasp, he'd press his hands to his face and straighten himself just a bit more. "Nu-ha! A trick will it be, for your act this eve?" How fun that would be; how interesting it would be! He winked playfully. "Surely, there must be something up your sleeves?"

He shook his head, his bridge complete and the cards within his paws. (It wasn’t as if he exactly had sleeves anyhow.) "It might leave you in stitches, that I can say."

"Then let it be so, so, Seam!"

"And shall it so be." The magician tapped its back with a digit, once, twice, loving suspense and how excited his only audience grew. With a coy grin and a twitching ear, he threw the cards up like confetti, if only to entertain the other through haphazardness. There was one he kept within his paw however, and it was more than enough to hear him applaud and cheer at one of his shortest acts.

Slowly, he offered it forward making it so what it was, was simply unseen.

"Is this your card?"

"My card?" Jevil held it and, after waiting to see if he was allowed to take it, had took it high in inspection. Reasonably, perhaps, it would have been a wild card to fancy the idea of being "his card," and yet... It was an ace of hearts, in such fine condition that surely, this wasn't a part of the normal deck they played with in the first place.

His gaze fell pensive, smile unreadable. He brought the card close to his own heart.

"You ask me if this is my card." It was obviously not his, because this was not part of any collections he owned, but maybe that was the trick, and—

"...so it is not your card? " Seam mused, almost rhetorically in his feigning disappointment. He thoughtfully rested a paw over his mouth. "Perhaps it's mine," and there, he would stop for a beat in passing, then two more. Mirth twinkled in his eye. "Would you like to have the card, nevertheless?"

The jester pursed his lips.

"Seam, Seam," he huffed, drumming his mitted fingers against the card. "Giving does not always go without receiving! And my answer, my answer, you have asked a question you've already known!" Jevil dropped to his feet and slid close, his features alight with a soft smile. Tucking the card away into his own sleeve, he outstretched his hands and stuck them forward.

Seam returned the smile, cupping his paws under his hands. "It is only polite of me to ask."

There from nothing, light weaved itself into his palms, wisps walting together and lovingly binding into themselves. One, two, three, four: these hearts appeared, small and glowing with a colorless blush. Jevil found sudden interest in his feet, twiddling his “tootsies” and placing weight into the back of his heels.

"…In return for your heart,” he looked back at him and drew his hands outwards, “I give you, you my own hearts!" They remained there, and he would take his paws happily. Squeezed them warmly. "So yes, I do, I do wish to have the card!"

"Then you accept that you'll have me as well?"

"A funny way to put it there, but that means you'd have to take me, too!"

The magician purred.

Jevil motioned for him to lower his head; the other indulged it. Now on his toes, he kept himself up and rested a chaste kiss against the patch of his head, bouncing back with the hearts shooting out of existence like fireworks. "Okay, okay!” he giggled. “But truly, I do wish for us to play a game."

Albeit they already were.

"Have a seat on the counter, then."

"Hee hee! If that's what you want, doll!"

He eased himself back up, ever making sure to not let go just quite yet. Soft, so soft—much ever pleasant to hold. Alas, alas, it was in hesitance that the other had to at least finally pull one paw away, if only to collect the cards back with the tiniest hint of magic since bending down could be troublesome for his stitching.

It was here, here where they finally were a duo once more.

"Ooh, I've a six!"

"And I, a nine."

"Six-nine?"

"The exit is always open, Jevil."

It was there, and here, where they could finally play and play.

"But I do agree, agree."

"Agree?"

"That you're a nine!"

"Then to my nine, you're the only one I wish to be by."

And together there to the end, they were happy in each other's company.


	2. aftertaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a belated pocky day.

Another well-deserving break after tending to yet another flawless court spectacle. Entertaining all of the other Darkners was fun, truly, and they had never minded these acts. At times it may have been overbearing and they would sometimes fail to care for themselves, but that was an expected consequence. It was light within the emptiness they breathed. Who else would it be to cheer everyone else? They best suited the charge.

Alas when all was said and done, the court pair ultimately preferred the company of each other. There can only be so many hijinks in a day. After all the shows, they were well overdue for a snack.

"OH, SEAM!" the jester cried out in anguish, leaning his weight into the cat's back. Rolling off with a whine, he'd then lie on the ground, coil springing loose and head spilling across. "HOW COULD YOU FORGET, FORGET?"

Seam eyed him mindfully. "Forget...?" Sitting on his legs, he'd readjust them into a pretzel, if only to promptly nudge the other's head back where it was. Can't have it getting stuck. Pouting deeply with his coil now reset, Jevil lurched into a sitting position and slapped his hands on his knees.

"YOUR TEA! YOU'VE FORGOTTEN TO HAVE A BISCUIT."

The magician laughed softly, lowering his tea to the floor. "I suppose I have." He traced the square porcelain rim lazily and considered what to make of it. Given that his being was of cotton and fabrics, what logic was left in the drink and food that they shared? None, really, and the best excuse he could reason with would be magic. Did the jester want his tea with frying oil this time? Glass?

"SEAMY DEAR?"

"Sorry, sorry." How easily it was to drift into musing in such charming company. His buttoned eye circling once, he glanced up at the other Darkner and tilted his head to the side. "Why the need for one?"

Stretching into his lap, Jevil would look at his stitched world above and outstretch a splayed hand (as best as it being mitted would allow). "TODAY! DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS?" With his hand so close, Seam took it gingerly within his paw and squeezed.

"Today?"

"IT IS OUR GAME!!" He sat up again and nuzzled into him, tail flicking like a metronome.

"Ah, that I knew, love!" he chuckled and returned the affection.

"INDEED," so he reluctantly let go to reach into his sleeve, "AND I HAVE BROUGHT IT HERE!" In an easy arc sideways, the jester revealed a small box of biscuits without label. What was the flavor? Surprise! There's no fun in knowing what it was, so that can simply be left to the imagination. With a fantastic grin, he thumbed it open and sloped the box like pasta to remove one. Held it at its middle between them.

"SHALL WE PLAY?"

"Hm. I don't see why not." And truly, why not? It would be something to pass the time. There were a few rounds they could get out of it, and if they could have any reasonable excuse to be with each other, then so be it.

"GO ON!" He brought it closer. "TAKE A BITE, BITE OF IT!" Jevil happily demonstrated by pinching one end with his teeth, winking as he did so with shimmering CGI sparkles (which were really just his magic for dramatic appeal). Curious enough, the cat leaned forward and took the other end. He didn't mind him pressing a hand to his shoulder, nor when he had cupped his cheek and rubbed lightly in the affection; he welcomed it (albeit it took a bit in him to not purr). Surely, he only did so to have a better hold. Nothing more. (Even if they both felt and knew otherwise.)

"BEGIN THE RACE!"

And within those few seconds, those razors for teeth took more than half while he only had a small part. It was like the treat was entering a shredder. How could the flavor be savored? Too close, then, when they were about to collide in their battle and he put a kind paw to the other's chest.

Seam broke away first.

"OH?" He looked him over from top to bottom, almost wondering why he'd ever have decided to go without fight. Amusement glinted in his eyes as he awaited an answer.

"I'll win the next fur certain."

That was all. His composure was kept as easily as the tea that had long gone cold.

"NU-HA! VERY WELL!" he snorted, leaving it as that. "YOU ARE CLAWVER, CLAWVER." He tucked another between his teeth, endearing smile curling higher. What fun, fun in not knowing! Well, it was also a little disappointing, but that should not be expressed so easily.

"I WOULDN'T DOUBT THE PAWSIBILITY."

And he was right.

The other went at a slower pace; which is to say still quite fast, but Seam was able to at least catch up. With his hands still on him, he'd place a paw under the jester's chin as if to readjust by tilting himself a little higher. But before they could ever meet, Jevil backed off abruptly with a portion of the stick seesawing between his teeth. Although it could just be poor eyesight on his part, his gaze seemed askance. He felt a bit hotter as well.

Regardless, he cheered after finishing his piece and there, another already in his mouth. Although waiting rather impatiently, his eyes were closed (somehow), and he'd drum his hands against his shoulders in excitement. He was really into it! And why wouldn't he be? He got to be close, close! So close!

Yet this time, Seam decided against playing. He took the stick and drew it back lightly, pulling it away entirely once Jevil moved to take another bite. But upon only tasting air and hearing his teeth slide, he would blink his eyes open and gasp as the doll kissed him there. It was fleeting, and the cat parted to observe his reaction. Casually, he would tilt his head, ears twitching and his smile smug.

"What would be the use of choking on food?"

A moment or two in passing, the jester gradually lit up. His eyesight had not betrayed him earlier. His features were much more flushed, and he seemed to bounce a little. Trembled. Words escaped him in squeals and giggles; he could hardly manage to say what he'd wanted! There, he pressed close against him and floated high enough to make it so they were face-level.

"...AGAIN!!"

"Hm?" Oh, how he loved him. He would happily humor him, but he supposed he'd enjoy it best with a little teasing, all out of interest. With the paw that was set under his chin, he'd trace it along his face. "Again?"

Jevil patted him twice, thrice, much and much more. "AGAIN. AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN!" But he would pause, wondering if he was being impolite. Wondering if he should tone it down a bit; he was about to be off the walls, wasn't he? But that's what made it fun! But still, he cleared his throat and grew sincere. "PLEASE, SEAM?" He wouldn't force him if he truly didn't want to, but it had felt so nice, nice to meet!

As his answer, he soon brought himself close and gently graced his partner with another kiss. He felt like mush, especially melting when those hands glided right under his ears, for such lovely touches were such a pleasant experience after all the extravagant tomfoolery. It was a glowing warmth he came to love.

They pulled back, only to lean against each other's foreheads.

"HEE HEE! HOW PLEASANT," the jester sang elated, his own ears burning. Oh, he couldn't get enough of it. He couldn't get enough of him. Their game may have ended so quickly, but this was just another. "NOW!! MY TURN, TURN TO TRY!"

Seam watched him move back along with his hands, how he wrung them quietly and how his smile twitched. How he huffed and folded his arms restlessly.

"CLOSE YOUR EYES."

Rolling them, he obliged.

It was a little while for the funny man to gather his nerves. Did he have nerves? He didn't know! He'd moved his hands off in slight flailing, then cradled his face gently. Ah, how flustered he was. An exhilaration. As much as he'd love to slam right into him a couple of times like no tomorrow, he instead kissed him lovingly, lingering. He hesitated in moving away, and he'd trail more and more across his face, murmuring how much he'd loved him with each one.

He stopped with another proper kiss upon the lips and drew back, taking his paws into his hands. Swung them a bit. Played with them.

"...Well?"

"SOFT, SOFT." Jevil pressed into him and rested his head upon his chest. Letting go of one hand, the cat curled his paw around him in embrace. It was difficult to stay so... collected, to say the least. His cotton was tingling, and he'd wanted to express how much he adored him as much as he had. It was such a great pleasure to see him behave like this. He wanted more, and he was sure the other did to, but it all can wait for later.

Drawing a circle into his back and allowing the other to place his head under his chin, he would simper and murmur, "Nap?"

"NAP."


	3. warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it snows.

Pitter, patter, patter, pitter.

Oh, that's not how it went.

Together in the field by the olden trees, barren of dark candy, its blanket of leaves dancing like a sweep across the shore. Two entertainers of the court, away and in company. They meant to take a break, to nap, and nothing much more. Yet there came a strangeness to it all. Dust from above drifted quietly without direction. It amassed across the ground, glimmering bright and gentle. Such coldness crackled under each step, whether they heavy or light.

Seam hummed musingly. A sight unfamiliar, much too so that it should not have been dismissed as a melting dust. Ah, but his research, such extensive texts; he'd know it best as snow. How was it here? That, unfortunately, he could not know. Such a world they lived in was best left to the imagination at times.

"HAHA! SEAM, IT ALWAYS TASTES LIKE FUN!!"

His pensive gaze peeled away and fell upon his companion, softening at seeing him prance. He kicked up powder and twirled about, enjoying the way his cape was sprinkled in disappearing white. Hands open, head craned back, he gladly accepted this phenomenon in all its glory. Jevil hopped down beaming and skipped to him, offering the snow in his hands.

"YOU TRY, TRY SOME TOO!"

"...Very well!" he sighed, trailing off into laughter. How could he refuse him? The doll took a pinch of what the other held, bringing it to his tongue and setting it to the roof as it shifted from solid to liquid. How strange. So vivid the air, so chillingly it danced throughout his stitching. He folded his arms behind him and watched the jester toss the rest up in satisfaction and fall backwards, wiping both arms and legs across the ground. His tail seemed to deliberately remain close to his chest. Avoiding the frost? Sensible.

"NOW!" Pulling himself back up and brushing off his shoulders, the fool jumped to float, then flourished his hands in a flurry of colorless confetti. "AN ANGEL!" Truly, a magnificent, outstanding discovery. There in the blanketing white was an imprint, resembling one aside from the subtle legs of the hat. Such a subtle devil.

Seam stepped close and reaffixed his hat with one paw, only so he could slide it down and place it on his face. "I thought the angel here was you?"

"US!!" Jevil snickered, resting his hands over his paw and leaning into it. Oh, how pleasant it was. Quiet and still, a fascinating spectacle worth admiration. It was beyond a diamond's shine, beyond a heart's comfort. Well. To the cat, it was. Biased? Of course. He was so deeply smitten, so tightly stitched. His paw fell to the side when the other moved back, back on his feet, and shoveling snow into his hands. Their gazes locked. He saw how he rounded it, began juggling it. "UEE HEE!" Such an act lasted only a mere minute before he'd suddenly praise them all high.

There, as they remained in the air through magic, he couldn't help but note it for future performances. There were so many possibilities and ways this formless material could be used, and—he would stagger forward as something smacked him on the back of his head. He pawed at it, finding it sinking into his fabric. The jester glowered impishly.

"Oh, you!" The cat chuckled, shaking his head and breaking into a light sprint, taking care to scoop up snow as he went. The other clapped his hands merrily and spun and spun, sending a heart out to flare above.

"YES! ME, ME!!"

Seam threw left and right, each missing narrowly, but all deliberately. He wasn't as loaded as his opponent, no. But he didn't really have strategy to it either. It was to simply throw and throw; that seemed the most entertaining. Flow, the flow. All in good fun. Jevil had dropped back to his heels (if only to make things a bit fairer) and, with pep in step, chased after him in a new round of cat and mouse. Only he had things to throw at him still, and well, this certainly could be something else entirely if they were along a beach at sunset.

Alas. To make do with what they had.

The jester ran out of things eventually though, and that's when he was hit: a burst of cold, a tickle biting against his ankles. His head sprung off with the second attack that followed, and he shook in his giggling. How he dramatically fell with the spin on his foot, how he placed a hand over his heart, groaning playfully. So exciting!

"DOWN, DOWN. I'VE BEEN HIT!" he cried, balling into himself and slinking his head back. He weakly curled his hands into the ground. "BOO HOO, IT SEEMS MY CURTAINS MUST CLOSE..."

"Well, well." The magician slowed to a stop, nearing him as he thoughtfully pressed a paw to his mouth. His brows rose and an ear twitched. "Finishing so early?" he teased with a smirk.

"JUST KIDDING!" And he swiped the snow, intending to shove it into him, but—

"Have at you!"

—he was tackled!

"FOLLY!"

There they lied, holding each other happily and catching their breath that steamed. Oh, so freezing, but what an excuse it was to be like this! Seam sat up straight and dragged Jevil along with him, who clung tightly to his fur. His grip loosened politely as he began to pet him between the ears. From the petting, he'd move his hands to massage his ears, enjoying the purring against him. "HEE HEE, YOU WIN, WIN." His tail held one of the paws that wrapped around him.

Seam rubbed his nose against where the other's would be, grinning fondly. Proudly. "And as the winner, I wish for you to stay at my side in this moment."

"VERY WELL!" Easily said and easily done! He rested into him much more and loved how he was brought closely, brought warmly. Contact was so nice, nice and appreciated. It grounded him and made him want more.

"You're much too cold, my dear," he whispered, gifting a kiss at his cheek.

Jevil chuckled, "ALL THE MORE REASON, REASON TO BE WITH YOU."

"How I love you so," he breathed. In hugging him, he would grow quieter, wanting only him to hear. "You're such a funny one, you realize?"

"ARE WE NOT ALL TIED WITH SOME FUNNINESS, SEAMSTER?" he said, cocking his head.

A pause. "You even more-so." Truly, he was better dubbed as the funny little man. He made him experience funny things, like love, for one. Which isn't all that funny, but sometimes it was, and he loved love! He leaned back and never minded the cold, for having his joy in his arms was enough to balance it. "Ha, what feelings you draw out of me!"

"OH?"

He set a paw at his cheek again. "Your laughter and your smile, such a brilliance in our dark. How hotly you set alight my soul." Seam readjusted so that they may rest on their sides. "I'm glad you're my partner; I could not imagine it any other way." Oh, how warm they felt. How they couldn't stop themselves from smiling.

"HEE, WHAT A HOPELESS ROMANTIC YOU ARE..." Jevil then entangled their legs, smooched him on the cheek, the forehead, the lips, all over! Seam tried to return it all, oh, but he could not keep up. "I LOVE IT! I LOVE YOU!!" More and more; he couldn't help but shower him in it all. "LOVE, LOVE. YOU, OH BRILLIANT SEAM!" He pressed one to his lips and shifted lower to place his head near his chest to hear his heartbeat. Ah, so it beat as fast as his. "LOVE I DO."

And so they lied there a bit more and in letting themselves be speckled in the cold dust.

"...Perhaps we should remain here a bit longer, just before we return." It was a little selfish, yes, but he was allowed to be selfish at times, was he not? Was it wrong of him to want to stay here, and to want to keep close?

Jevil laughed lightly as his tail lazily threw across them both. "THAT WOULD BE NICE."

Not at all.


	4. mistletootsietoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before a celebration, they share another moment together.

There throughout the filling halls of the castle they ambled close, relaxing as the guards filtered out and worked around darkness respectively, flickering embers of blushing gold held by these many few. An occasional hello and nod would be thrown this way and that way; for tonight's festivities, they decided against keeping them from their work. Tonight was a celebration akin to the wintry one of the Lightner world. What good would it be to stop their race from enjoying themselves a little more? On and on they went, and soon enough, the two entertainers found themselves in the quiet ease of a strangely unoccupied floor (not that it would stay that way for long).

So ridiculously convenient.

They had made their plans long beforehand and rehearsed often enough that it was a part of them; thus, there was nothing wrong in a simple deviation for their own pleasures. Just for a little while. Nothing more, and they'd return to refining their act. A breather at best.

Outstretching his arms high above his head and leaning so far to the side that he'd wound up doing a small, slow spin, the fool held back a yawn and sat upon the cat's right shoulder. He'd lower and set his hands at his waist, arms now akimbo and legs crossed together. Such a rightfully long day had him aching, aching in a delight that bubbled and bubbled.

Seam looked up to his resting light and lifted a brow. He couldn't feel his weight or see any dip; was he floating? How polite. And though they had yet to wear their performance attire, a mistletoe dangled from his partner's tail, seeming to purposely fall low and not above either of their heads. Was he saving it for a snack? Perhaps it was for a discreet flair, an aesthetic to be a bit more eccentric. It looked nice regardless. So much in fact that he couldn't help but smile and gently paw at it, if only to play with the bell that was strung along with it. What, was he not allowed to? When it was right there beside him? Such a small trinket that winked shyly and sang as it swung was a peculiar wonder, enough to reasonably fixate over for a minute.

He heard him snicker and watched his tail brushing to the side a little out of ways. His paw following, he glanced back inquisitively and found his features much knowing. Greatly pleased actually. Jevil leaned forward and inwards, chin now set on the back of his hands and a leg kicked back. "MY, MY!" he huffed happily. "IS IT NOT TO YOUR LIKING?"

"Ha! Not to my liking?" Silly question that was; it surely must have been rhetorical. The doll's paw dropped to his side and he pondered if he should have any more or less decoration for later. A last minute alteration, ah, but no. Perhaps he shouldn't. After all, why should he? He nonchalantly revealed a bouquet of a dozen cards of hearts from behind and shot him a wink. "It suits you."

Laughing, the jester came dangerously close enough that the faintest shove would let them meet; he smelled of peppermint and glittered in the dimmest glow. "THEN! WHY MESS, MESS WITH IT?" He took the bouquet into hands and hid his curving grin, rolling to lie upside down once again.

"You're hanging it a bit low." He knew it to bend higher, not act like a limp noodle with a bow tied to it. It was simply unfair to keep him from an excuse. With Jevil's tail lifting just a bit more to humor him, it remained level, still not above either of them. Lovable bastard. He placed his index and middle against his forehead, pushing him back somewhat.

"Better, although not quite there."

"UEE HEE HEE, HOWZABOUT THIS?" He dropped to his feet and bounced back, tail returning to its natural curve but still not all that different from before; it did not tower over them. Tucking away the bouquet somewhere (because he can do anything, logic isn't always applied), he clapped his hands and threw them out jazzily. He had no plans to give in.

Amused, Seam shook his head and frowned lightly. "At this rate, perhaps I'll postpone your gift..." Purposely he trailed off, beginning to walk past him at a careful leisure. There was no physical gift at this time; he was only playing his game. He did have something for when the night ended though.

Jevil blinked. He'd tilt his head one way, then to the opposite, then back again, and soon enough he was skipping backwards to match his pacing. "POSTPONE?" His smile twitched and he'd wring his hands, confused and curious.

HIs card has been activated! Time to set himself into 'attack mode.' Tipping his chin up, the magician clasped his paws behind him and moved much slower than before. "'Course," he purred, "what you wear and do matters at times." He made sure his gaze fell, from the top of his hat, to the end of his tail.

"You can wait, can't you?"

A small click. The awkward squint to the side, a brief consideration. "WAIT, WAIT..." he parroted, eyes closing and arms being folded across his chest. Can he? He can! Did he want to? Not really.

"Unless you want to fix your accessory. Ain't much else to it," Seam shrugged.

"HA!" Unthinkable! How could he willingly lose, lose the game before it ever truly started? The fool reversed himself and sauntered abreast, no longer dragging backwards. "AS CURIOUS, CURIOUS AS I BE, I WON'T ALLOW MYSELF TO BE CAUGHT IN YOUR LITTLE TRAP!!"

"So be it, Jevil."

They continued on.

Then he felt a tug at his wrist.

"OKAY MAYBE A LITTLE CAUGHT."

"Hm?" He looked at him, seeing that he'd then thumb at the hem of his sleeve while checking his step. What, a child? Was he to now give him a brimming glass of colored sparkling water with a straw so silly it failed its purpose? Without skipping a beat and in breaking his thoughts, the man joyfully flashed his teeth and jumped back into floating.

"THE WAITING GAME ISN'T ALWAYS THAT FUN!" he said. As if that was an explanation. With a little pout and a mischievous edge weaving into his words, he'd circle around the doll that had stopped in his tracks. "MY 'ACCESSORY,' WAS IT?"

He spun around, cape flowing and all.

"THIS TINY THING?"

Jevil tucked his legs close along with his tail. He quietly removed the bells that rang in the motion, shaking it like a pair of dice and tossing them to Seam who caught it narrowly. (He put it on the patch of his head for kicks.) Then reclining on his elbow midair, he'd rise and pose like he wanted to be drawn. His tail finally sat higher than the both of them.

There, a mistletoe between them.

"...oh!" He feigned his surprise, staring up with glee. "Would you look at that."

"OH INDEED! WHAT A WONDER IT IS."

There was no need to delay things any further. Seam looked about themselves for a moment; still, none around. Not that it actually mattered at this point. And still, all too convenient. He'll take it without complaint. He stepped close and rested a chaste kiss against him, a wave of warmth washing over him like the many times before. In drawing back to see him beaming, he whispered, "That was my gift."

"A GIFT FOR A GIFT!" And so quickly Jevil would plant him another one, and then a second one just below the patch on his head! All mindfully enough so not to disturb the bells that still rested there. Politeness is important! With a paw offered to him lovingly, he took it in hand and then carry alongside him once again. They murmured about their plans once again, of what to do, how, and in eagerly anticipating what could occur. Their spirits were much lighter now, and there wasn't much more time to idle. They had to set up their show.

But oh, what a lovely breather that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you mean it's not december yet


	5. an audience of one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one alternative to locking jokeman up. (angst)

It was their last game.

Last, last, they both felt and knew. Oh, how he knew. So early on he had noticed; his quieting disposition, how he became so much more reserved. Avoiding contact, avoiding expression, avoiding care. Did he know? No, he did not know, know what he knew. Perhaps a little, but not enough; otherwise, he would be much more jovial. Yes, that was truth. He would carry himself much easier if he knew!

And he had tried, tried to tell him what knowledge that he, a fool, came to have.

Yet that elevator down was so fatally silent.

Slow.

Much, slower.

Painful, bizarre, new, and, well.

Exciting.

Out of time out of time, they were reaching their deadline.

Down and down the stairs they went, plunging into darkness with each passing candle flaming weakly. Their steps echoed; the faint bells of his were deafening, and it was so difficult to think of what to say when there were so many things to speak about now that they were here. He heard laughter, no-no, it was only his own. That was fine, he had enough joy for the both of them! So there. At the stage, they stopped. Nothing, nothing at all, there was nothing, but he knew, they knew. There was much, much more.

He found his partner smiling bitterly, conflicted, torn. Saw it, felt it. Watched the doll press a paw to the soon-to-be-door that would release them both from their cage. Nearly clawed it. The heavy air, so thick with anticipation and suspense. When, oh when, would he draw back those curtains? When would they finally create their grand spectacle? He'd do it himself if it weren't for wanting to let—

"Jevil," he said, and it was so sudden and loud that it broke him off into a fit of laughter. Now, now! The time was now! Wasn't it? It was. It was, and yet what was it? What was it that felt so amiss?

"YOU FRAY, FRAY SO MUCH, OLD DOLL!"

That was it.

But why? He was fine so many weeks before, but why now? He was far more ripped and worn than he last remembered. These strings that jumped from his fabric—what happened to his self-care? Deteriorating and deteriorating, such a state he seemed to succumb to.

And why today?

Today, today, a celebration of the world.

The kings themselves were boring and miserable fools to let only them out.

But alas, alas. He'd share this moment with his companion, his partner, the magician he'd been so tightly sown to.

"OH, WHAT SHALL WE PLAY TODAY?"

Seven candles on the side, seven candles parallel; fourteen in total.

Two Darkners, two entertainers.

Hesitant paces and unbending intents.

Wordless, Seam removed a deck of cards. New. Not the ones they'd often played with before. They had already been opened, but its condition was far too untouched for it to hold any memories. Such a tight grip, such a loose grip, uncurling and restless. Jevil took them without trouble and began to shuffle the cards. Counted them. A heart, spade, club, diamond, they were all there. All so new and unfamiliar and without past. Why? Did he not want, want to relish in the moment?

A dozen, two, three, and four. They were truly all there.

"YOU'RE ALWAYS SUCH FUN, FUN, FUN!"

But oh, he didn't ignore the missing jokers in the set. He slowed his rearranging, wanting it to last just a bit more. Just a bit more. He didn't want to be released quite yet—no, it was so much more to delay in gratification. And what of his old friend? Not once had he looked at him, not once had he stopped grimacing and quivering with as much delight as he had.

And why, why should they wait any longer?

"THIS IS IT!!"

He separated all the cards by their suits and slipped them back together; nothing else to go about it. He so wanted to play, play with him, but was there really anything they could now do here? Down here, where they could so easily leave the imprisoned world? What game, what game? There was so many, and yet they could not play. He saw it. He saw his reluctance, one where a game would not bode well. He wanted to go, didn't he? He did! There was no other reason to why the magician began to shake his head. He was ready, wasn't he? Prepared as well as he; they must step out for their show.

"THIS IS IT, THIS IS IT."

And he paused, looking at him with glee.

He'd step close once again. Open his arms warmly, watch as he lowered his paws and fisted them so tightly his fabric looked close to tearing. How he so wanted to fix him up now, right here, return him to his best condition. But they could do that later; they were about to go.

"WHY NOT BE FREE, FREE WITH ME, ME?"

He knew it wasn't delight. He knew he wasn't eager. He had been with him for so long that he hadn't been driven so mad and foolish to believe that this old cat was gladly awaiting release. Why else would he behave so jarringly different? So miserably? And he didn't want to part on these terms, no, but he knew it could be worse. But he didn't want to know how this magician would be when they'd finally parted after performing together for so long. He didn't want to know what it would be like when he'd started neglecting himself once again and become so overworked.

He shouldn't perform alone.

He couldn't perform alone.

"...That cannot be done."

He breathed out through his teeth.

That was obvious. He couldn't be free with him. He can very well do acts, he can very well entertain in his stead. But oh, how overbearing that would be. It may all be a game, but he held his attachments. In this fiction, he had grown so close—was it fiction? They were very much real. Or maybe they weren't, maybe it was only him. None of it seemed right, really, and he supposed he had time to figure it all out soon enough. How his body constricted—it was only exhilaration—it was not fear. He did not fear what would come of them. This wasn't much of a game at all.

"TO LOCK, LOCK YOURSELF UP IN A LITTLE CELL."

His arms dropped slowly, he stepped back slowly, tail stilling. With the rest, the rest. He would not be alone, would he? But he would, he would, and not in the same ways. Why couldn't he be at his side after all this years? Why now? For how long? How could he not look at him and smile and say that he was only kidding, that he truly wanted the same freedom as he did?

But how could he want the same thing he wanted?

Jevil kept smiling.

"THAT IS WHAT YOU WANT?"

No.

Seam didn't.

He willed himself to stop trembling, stop frowning—what good would that be as his only companion in this moment? He didn't want to lock him away (or be locked away from him for that matter). Yet they feared his friend, didn't they? So of course, they gave him this charge—it was only right, only logical, the only course. It was only right it was him, wasn't it? To see him off last. He wouldn't have accepted anyone else, and he was the only one capable. Nobody else would so happily do it—not that he did it happily—and nobody would dare try without letting Seam see him off last.

But what a punishment it was.

What cruel fate that these strings tied him to.

Why in the world would he have to be forced to locking him up? Were they to madden him?

He only gave him his final bow in reply, hiding a smile that tore him from the inside and ripped apart his seams. He felt so lifeless, so light, so unbearable. He still couldn't look at him. He should; he must. But he knew if he looked at him, he would want to stay. He would want to go against authority and do so much more with him. He didn't want to know what expression he had, nor the memory of it. He imagined what it would be like to be with him, and yet—

he couldn't do it.

That was that.

Jevil wouldn't force him any longer.

Oh, but how he wanted to keep their moments—to keep going on. He wanted so badly for him to not go, but what other choice could there be in this game? And freedom, freedom! What a wonder it would all be to be free. He'll go, he'll go. It was only right. Order from above, and this game would end. But even through bars, peering into the cell he escaped—what could he say?

"BYE-BYE, SEAM."

He would have liked to seen him happier.

And still, he wished he could share this freedom with him. Such a brilliant feeling it was—yet without him in this moment, it felt a bit sickening. Lovely, dreadful, it was everything. Closed and locked, the door gone and the key unseen. Strung at his neck? Then it truly was the finish line.

He waved and waved, all until he heard the elevators opening.

"BE SURE TO VISIT!"

He knew that possibility may never come with such an unfavorable game they all played. Even if Seam wanted to, would he—could he? He may try, but how successful could he be? And so it was best not to say soon—to say that he'd see him again—to make any form of promise that would fall so flat. He wished for him to visit despite it all. Just to visit. At some point, when, it did not matter. Just to visit. Yet with the current rule? Would he not be subjected to solitary isolation along with the freedom he gained? Then, then it was meaningless.

They both knew it. They could wish and hope to all they know, but whatever the case it did not change the ultimate ending.

It was their final closing act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I,,, really enjoy all the variations around how he might get locked away, so I hope y'all don't mind me yeehawing this weird funky version out of the left field, oops


	6. solo act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> foxy cat grandpa feels a bit adrift. (angst)

The magician was at a loss.

In all performances, he failed to do his best to entertain these fellow Darkners like before. Each show fell just short out of his standards, the passion for theatrics being long extinguished into numbness. His companion, his partner, his friend, the jester: no longer there alongside him.

Oh, but do make no mistake to what may have influenced such behavior.

He did not miss him. He did not gravitate towards the areas they so often frequented prior, did not ache and imagine that he was there, did not wish that the next curtains revealed would show him there. He did not hold his breath when the faintest bells came, did not hope to find him around the corner. He did not trick himself into believing that one day they'd return to being in the court once more. He did not lie to himself that the man was okay, did not lie to himself that the man was deserving of his fate no matter how his cotton twisted at the thought. He did not try to sell the objects he held such great attachment to in order to rip away, nor did he stumble and stop when he regretted it so deeply that he'd play his due part in saying that he wouldn't mind having it back, all instead of so desperately accepting it outright.

No, he did not do any of these things (but he did), for it was against him to do so. It would all have been in vain. He did not want the weaving pity, and thus he simply pretended that things were okay (yet he couldn't but tried).

Then was he alright?

"'Course," he'd always insist, and it would be left as that.

These flaws were just all himself.

It was his own fault that he had to go through the motions without soul, without heart, without life. His worsening condition all came upon him, and he knew well enough that it was deserved, perhaps not enough. And how could he take care of himself? There was much to do, much to keep up. A few loose stitches here and a torn fabric there could be fixed later; taking a break would be meaningless. Self-care? Rest? Everyone else needed that much more than he, even if he logically could reason that he himself needed it as well.

But he couldn't.

None of it was good enough. Not right, not perfect, oh, it wasn't the same. His acts alone could not gather the same mesmerized reactions from the crowd. Perhaps, perhaps, it was change that caused this. But what, oh what? What was the grand change? He knew what it was and it made him nauseous with every thought that stained his mind. It felt so wrong to not be able to turn his head and see him dancing upon his heels, improvising on the spot and enthralling the stage. The rapture of such captivating magic was...no longer there. He'd catch himself almost introducing him despite his absence, and there were days he simply could not get himself in the mindset.

But what else could he do?

He had to keep working, keep at it, for who else in this world of theirs would be able to do it?

It was him.

The doll could not have a moment of peace. He could not allow himself. Not yet, not now. So many more important things were at hand (oh, but maybe he should say paw) and it did no good to go astray. He accepted it. Work was a distraction from what had happened, even if it didn't help how doing things all in itself reminded him of it all. It was so draining without Jevil.

If he could, he would have visited; he would be visiting daily, any hours he happened to be free. And why couldn't they allow him that mercy? They forced him to lock him away; why wouldn't they at least let him have some means of interacting with him once again? No, but no, it was all much too reasonable that he couldn't. Nobody was allowed to visit in fear that they may go mad, go to the same lengths as he had. And it was especially him, that they could not allow. He was forbidden. They feared most in what he could do, in how he had the ability to free him once more despite having locked him up. He was his old friend, after all.

So he'd keep performing, performing and going, all until he was ordered otherwise, even if it was all so wrong.

Seam wondered if it mattered in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (give the man his light back 2k18)


	7. broken carousel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some clown has his free time to himself, too. (angst)

How lonely, lonely he be.

A cold and bittersweet freedom. Not once had he a visitor; not once had he felt warmth. Outside and out of sight. For the best, best perhaps for him, best perhaps for them. But what good was it without a person to share such sentiments with? Freedom crackled beneath his skin and tasted outstanding, yet the feeling was so, so overbearing at times. What a freedom it was to make him constantly feel both dread and joy and misery and relief and all things at once! Tightening a tightening, a tangle of his spring, a restlessness in his tail. What did he feel, actually? He simply couldn't remember. He leaned against the curve of a rocking carousel horse, his laughter echoing and echoing like he were in a quiet, grand chapel of an empty congregation.

Quiet, quiet.

A quietness like this? Oh, it was not much of a fun, fun game to play.

He could not possibly rip away from how his thoughts so revolved and spun. The prison of the world, the cell that they danced in; would it have been better if he had declined such a bliss of this place they wouldn't step in? Would it have been better if he played along with the other participants of the grand game they played? And what of his wishes, his wishes to be free with him?

But that old magician locked himself away.

Maddening, so maddening.

Abandoning? Had he intended to leave him outside by himself? A betrayal, a traitor? Had he simply acted all those years in order to lead up to this closing? A true entertainer then, and what a fantastic job he did in playing him. He had all his his hearts, hearts he gave, only to drop them at the cell door and leave him there All light smiles, banters and fires; perhaps they were nothing! But what sense did it make for him to be so easily tossed away? They were the prized entertainers of the court, and what a shame it was he had to finish his acts so soon. Perhaps it was that! And so then, how could he blame him? Blame him for what he himself felt and believed in? Blame him for feeling what he did and even having to see him off?

Maybe if he wasn't so bunched up over it, he, too, would have found it fitting enough to join him!

Maybe.

Regardless, the same games played over and over without a person to play it with was not simply ideal. The same tricks could only last for so long; novelty was long lost. He could keep pretending and imagining all the different scenarios and conversations that there could have been. Could have, would have, should have? It was fun, truly! To have to stand this way and on that end and balance here and there and act as different people, to have such animate discussions! And what a marvelous experience it was when he'd slowly stop to an almost blank stillness, the enveloping, frightening silence that dug and dug into him when he knew so well that there was not another soul around...

Oh, how long has it been since he was without a proper visitor?

Though he was quite far and out of ways, he never ignored the distant pacing he'd hear from within the cell. A guard, passing, not looking. Always and always they ignored any chance they had of striking a conversation of him, and always they would simply turn back when he'd tried to say anything at all. What a head-turner! Indeed he would remain in his spinning freedom, and how unfortunate it is that nobody else would care to entertain or, at the very, very least, be entertained. Not even fleetingly.

Well, boo hoo at that.

Hee hee.

What did it matter?

No, no, it did matter, actually, and he didn't need to think to know it. The authority, their rule; it's part of the game. How they so craved, so wanted! But in the end, the end of it all, Jevil truly had hopes of the doll visiting. To return. To perhaps accompany him then or at least see him, let him see him, too. Hear him, feel him, at least know that he's doing well and still very much animate. Perhaps, and perhaps if what he wondered was a truth, then to let him repair him and send him on his way.

But alas, alas!

Why hadn't he visited?

How could he leave him? How many times would he have to go, go over these same questions? For so many years and so many memories they shared, was it against him to at least drop by or send one of those endearing messages with such fantastic penmanship of his? And how could they have wanted them to part, to rip them away and send them off? Did they know? Would they know? It was glaring a fierce hole in the act of it all. But that rage had all left him by now, settled into guilt and sorrow, simmering into nothing. Those fiery curtains were all in ashes, ashes. He was never one for those feelings, but still, oh still! Why would he think something like that? Guilty oh guilty he was, for thinking of such things of his only friend. Was, was, he now is a simple, old shopkeeper, is he not? He could only hope that he enjoyed himself as much as he did, perhaps more.

He would so love to have Seam here.

So gravely he missed him among others of the court and everyone in truth, but him especially, for going without him for so long was a game gone dull and flat. His embrace, his presence, his words, much more and more he'd like to have once again. He so starved for any ounce of interaction at all in this abyssal and endless freedom, anything to remind him that he was even here, alive, kicking and breathing and not just spinning to a point his head sprung off with double vision whiplashing in with vertigo. He could not sleep, not rest, not sit so still that he'd relax enough in a bit of fear and, oh, wasn't that excitement? Fear, excitement; the same they are!

But sleep was a much dreadful task.

A worry, worry that in sleeping, he'd find himself awake after such an amount of time he could not distinguish the day and that perhaps, by chance, he would miss a visitor who came to truly seem him. What then? And even if he so liked, without the brink of exhaustion, what likelihood was there in falling right there? His dependency was a bit much, and this was his consequence. There was no trick or spell to drift him off, nor a quilt and a doll to breathe out the words that carry him away.

And ultimately, there was no reason to sleep quite yet. His ever growing inability to discern reality and the un-so, what of that? He may be free, he knew he was free, he was away from the game and away in his little place! But it was difficult, difficult, and a little painful and a little reason to lie flat across the ground and hold his own pretend funeral. The freezing world kept revolving even if he sometimes, sometimes, not all the times, but just sometimes, wanted it to stop. Even in his absence, it moved on and on, spinning and spinning.

It was another simple day in his lonely freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, that should be that for that!


	8. the light of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And on that delightful evening, the world was alight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra character tags: Lancer, King Spade (mentioned), Rouxls Kaard

T'was a path of yarn that so guided Darkners, a gentle glow of amber that stretched from forest to field. Closer and closer to where their hopes and dreams lied, its extravagance expanded, the thread splitting into colors alike a rainbow, cerise leaves so carefully carving the edges of the way. It was there where the grand stage was set, violet and with towering trees. A small snaking wire loosely strung along lanterns of gold, coiling around and around the area. A few of the lights were simply floating all on their own and wandered above, some so high they mirrored, mirrored the striking strokes of stars. With the trees the frigid wind danced, leaves waltzing in the dark sky, some following others as they led, some spiraling and drifting down onto the ground. Shyly and quietly, diamonds encircled the air in their pulsing brightness. As they rose and rose, they faded and faded; an easy spell for a magician who had so mastered his craft.

Various Darkners began to arrive and fill the area with their delicately made quilts. Few had mingled within their separate suits; others bumbled and mixed among themselves. They idled and waited upon the grass with an almost impatient glee. Slowly but surely, slowly but surely. They'd begin soon enough.

And oh, how enchanting and mesmerizing it was, yet Jevil always found himself gazing at the world that so livened his evening.

Simple, subtle smirks that he couldn't help but smile to; his laughter in watching everyone else's merriment. Together with his partner, they were a little out of ways, rehearsing, practicing, going over and over and over their act in their possibly over-excessive attire (that was apparently not overly enough by Seam's words). Alas, alas, he had other hours to be with the cat; he'd went and busied the others as they came, prancing about and shooting jokes here and there. To distract them from any worries, to keep them entertained...happy! For a lack of better words. Faces were set among their hierarchy: kings with kings, jacks with jacks, so on and so on. The exceptions were those with children or without suits, but as well as the pleasant fact that not everyone was willing to stay in their titles. For tonight, tonight, they would ignore formalities. Near the edge of the area however, he'd feel a tap on his shoulder.

"How cometh the preparations?" And so, the imp looked up and locked gazes with Rouxls, spotting the slightest of worry etch his features in a way he seemed...a tad goopier than usual! His arms were in their typical position; bent and stretched outwards, highly resembling a candle-stand or a coat rack. He wore what he wore on every other occasion, though he had draped on an open overcoat of similar fashion and his hair was pulled into a high bun with two pins purposely sticking through. Perhaps he had made his own attire out of...silk from silkworms? Not as nice as Seam's outfits though.

"HA-HA! PATIENCE, PATIENCE, HAVE YOU NONE?" Jevil stepped back and curled an arm behind him, swinging a hand outwards while he spoke.

With an askance gaze, the card cleared his throat, straightening himself a bit more. "I simply..."

He was stopped by a higher lift of the hand, the jester shaking his head with a broad grin, teeth glinting. "OH, CARD! HAVE WE EVER DISAPPOINTED?"

A small pause, and he received narrowed eyes and a quirked brow. Was that rhetorical? Of course there had been a few times. Rare, and he'd often thought it wasn't all much their fault in those times. "Well. If you're putting it thate way," he frowned, "there waseth that one incidente where—!"

"BESIDES THE POINT!" Jumping up, he turned in the air and pressed his indexes into his face. "WE'RE FINISHING UP. SO SEND, SEND THE PRINCE MY WARMEST HEARTS!!" A small clap, and he accentuated his words with four colorless hearts exploding outwards. He flicked the worm man upon his forehead and drew back. The sentiments were appreciated, but oh, was this the hour to concern over them? To dote over two entertainers that had so developed their acts and knew their limits well enough? "RELAX, RELAX. WE'LL BE QUITE ALRIGHT."

And what else could he do?

Smiling awkwardly, Rouxls sighed and offered the politest and deepest bow. "Then toil, foole, but doeth not overextende yourselves." He would turn on his heel and step forward, but he'd pause once more, wait, stilling, glance over his shoulder for a second. "...Thanke you for all your shows. The sweet prince loveth them, and I appreciate them along withe the others." And truly, they did. Not one of the Darkners had ever been ungrateful (and if otherwise, not for long).

Jevil blinked and took on a smug countenance, craning his head back, and pressed a thoughtful hand to his mouth. "OOH, BEING SENTIMENTAL, ARE WE?" he sang, snickering at how Rouxls would roll his eyes and groan.

"Oh, stopest," he smiled, waving a hand. "As much as I now want to, I won't taketh it backe."

"UEE HEE! I'M SURE AND I POINT, WE WON'T DISAPPOINT." Feigning a scowl, he shoo'ed him away, gently pushing him forward to go back to where he was. "GO ALONG NOW, NOW!" With empty complaints spilling from the tallest, he went on ahead and returned to Seam's side, for the time was much soon approaching. Changing and changing; they had to change, it was the norm! What was a show without properly getting into the most painfully intricate and considerate clothes? Their current wear was only a mere step into their final gear. To the side, to the side, where the stars don't shine, and a makeshift tent was created. There, where the distant hum of their audience could be heard, though faint.

For him, him! An ivory neckpiece glowing gently with the open seams of his muted lilac-toned clothes, paired with silver bells instead of gold. A ribbon of the same silvery fashion wrapped around his hips once, twice, and had been tied tight into a ribbon at his side. The bell sleeves fell at the top of his black mitted hands, a lavender vest thrown and pinned over his top. And, of course, a cape! A cape with the insignia of both clubs and spades decorated at the ends, matching with the club that dangled from his ear, and a spade opposite of that. It so matched with Seam's more red attire, but oh, when they used their magic...how they glowed! Him shades of cerulean and magenta, and the doll with more fiery appeal of reds and oranges.

Oh, he stole his heart. A magician's hat, gold lining on most of his clothes in contrast to his own. A scarf with both hearts and diamonds cascading down—it lied loose upon his shoulders, just like the open, half-sleeved tailcoat. Gloves for the paws he'd love to have hold, and a vest and undershirt—well, it was really the typical. A painted star over his eye; unmatchable to his own shine. Little tootsies that poked out, and all much so huggable that—!

He should stop staring.

Seam evened his sleeves and looked to his partner, a simper tugging at his features. "Charming," he purred, and he'd meant it in earnest. (What, did he mean himself?)

"PLEASE!" Jevil threw his hand up as if flipping hair, staring off with imaginary sparkles to wholly dedicate to his cocky little show. "I ALWAYS LOOK NICE, AND SO DO YOU, YOU! NICE AND..." He blinked a few times and tilted forward, hands set at waist, arms akimbo. He kind of looked like a pepper, now that he thought about it. Purple. Red. Yellow. Ah, peppers—just missing a bit of green. (He would never dare to eat such a hotrod.) "SPICY...?"

The doll snorted, "Perhaps!" And he'd motion him close with his paw, resting one on his shoulder and taking his time to readjust the imp's clothes. They didn't need to be fixed, no. He was allowed to have his little moment in being with him a bit more. And, he was most definitely not letting his work go to waste. The most intricate of details, the discreet hearts he had sewn into the fabric of the other’s. Over and over, he had to check—well, he simply couldn’t keep his paws off him just yet, and he’d savor his tittering. One adjustment here, one tap there. "There we are," he said. In thanks, he'd earn a light nuzzle and a quick, chaste kiss upon his forehead. Ah, how he wanted a bit more.

"READY, READY?"

"As always, really."

Out and out, they left and entered the land where stars shined and the Darkners so freely chatted and played. Their very appearance cast a breath of silence over their audience, and distant bells rang and rang just as quiet. From left, to right, to left, they continued. Each step of theirs as they approached the center of the field had left a glowing mark of various suits, ones that disappeared after the next stride. There, it was there.

To the right of Seam stood Jevil.

To the left of Jevil stood Seam.

This was their show, their spotlight; all else were to watch and enjoy. Their very souls were synchronized. Breath, motions, all things they had so practiced and refined in their years and years. Sharing a glance and a wink along with a careful scan of the crowd, they began with the sound of the rolling drums.

The jester leapt away onto his palms, arms bending, and pushing off enough for him to cross his legs and balance on the tip of his tail.

"BOISENGIRLS!"

The magician tucked an arm behind him and curled the other across his front, bowing his head with a curling smile, sparks flickering from his paws.

"Ladies and gents!"

"FOLKS ALL AROUND!! FOLKS IN TOWN!" He turned upside-down and brought opened hands close to his face, golden lights within the slits of his eyes appearing and rattling this way and that way, tongue hanging out. Cackling, he would dive down and back to a hasty standing position, beginning to move towards to the side. He kept himself low, hushed, mirth slipping in his words. "WHAT'S SAY WE HAVE A LITTLE FUN, FUN?"

A cheer scattered throughout the crowd.

"Then shall," Seam straightened himself and held the rim of his hat, "we," Jevil bounded off and flew high with a fading trail of stars, "begin!" The thread of lanterns that so surrounded them were aflame, extinguishing into flickering nothing and leaving the lights floating but untied, wandering and drifting. The cat removed his hat and pulled out from it his decorated wand, diamonds and hearts cascading. He quickly reaffixed it and bowed himself into a wide stance. Fanfare, oh fanfare; tambourines and trumpets and ribbons and all.

Oh, how they were in awe! The fool twirled and spun and kept to the sky, arms outstretched with spewed hands and tail arching behind him. He moved as if he were on the ground. There upon the front of his toes, a leg folded over the other, posture uptight as if he were with the paper ballerinas. With wide sweeping arcs he curled inwards and sprung back abruptly in a snap, a carousel of suits pairing with the spell of diamonds that rose. Seam leaned his weight into a foot and looked above, curving his wand. The lanterns began to follow after a leader, close, closer, much closer, and they took form of a wingless dragon spiraling both earth and heaven. He stretched back and padded to the side. Threw the wand up and caught it with the swipe of his paw, flicking his wrist along a slow curve from left to right, a heatless fire of glaring amber staining the stars.

Their magic crackled in the air. A sphere of suits soared high, cycling through the alternating patterns: heart, diamond, spade, club, all four, and to go once more. They eyed the audience roaring with delight, and so the cat pulled his free arm back and scooped with his paw. There, the dragon whipped through all of the Darkners and shot up and away, leaves flurrying along.

"OH! AND HERE SINCE: OUR PRINCE!"

With a splitting smile, Jevil swooped in and swept up Lancer who was seated with his father and shrieked happily at the surprise, taking him easily by the middle. A halo of spades encircled them as they drove up-up. Giggling, the prince hooked his arms around the jester's neck as best he could, seeing his dad's and lesser dad's warm eyes. Up and up! High, but not dangerously so. This was his stage now. They gawked, and pulling back a hand, he waved lightly to them, receiving a wave by nearly everyone else.

Seam threw his wand-less paw up and shouted, "Look and look, will you not look? See how brilliant, see him now!" Threads of magic came from the very tips of his claws, glowing a gentle hue of blue alike Lancer's complimented garbs. They weaved with each other, creating a makeshift card-castle to better suit the spade stage. Flowers and a radiant white lantern; they all came together for his spotlight.

The Spade King watched both out of caution and joy of seeing his own pride so beaming. But alas, even without his son so high, why wouldn't have he so enjoyed the show that they so prepared? The halo of spades settled and leveled themselves to create the ground of the sky, flat, but an apparent spade from above and below. The imp set the young spade there and skipped back into the air, tail flicking back. In a grand flourish outward, he presented him to the audience with a kind grace.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY WORDS, WORDS FOR OUR FRIENDS?" He cocked his head to the side and crossed his ankles, feeling light and light. An answer, an answer; some words, some words! What will he say? What will he do? A quiet had washed over their crowd, and they all awaited his smallest performance.

"Uh..." Carefully peering over the spade, Lancer thoughtfully rested a hand at his mouth, never noticing the thinnest thread that subtly tied around his ankle to ensure he wouldn't fall. What could he say? He saw how reassuring his dads were, and he had to wonder what would make them most happy. But wait, what would make him happy? They were all friends, right? Just for tonight. Maybe then, they wouldn't mind! With a light bulb materializing over his head that went ignored, he'd smirk and step back, raising his arm in the air. With a deep breath, he proclaimed,

"I'm the bad guy!"

Jevil tossed out a few boxes of fireworks and parroted, "HE'S THE BAD GUY!!!"

All laughed and echoed grandly as they burst, "He's the bad guy!" They spew compliments in as they flailed around harmless magic, necklaces of Rudinns and Hathys clinking their instruments together, and others linking together. Their applause cast a staircase of spades fading into view from top to bottom, railings braiding into appearance as Lancer dashed down with the jester cheering him on.

"Easy now," The doll chuckled, offering the child his wand and guiding his tiny hand to ensure his grip. He'd knelt down and whispered, "Wave it about." In a small frown, Lancer's tongue stuck out as he inspected it curiously, head tilted as he wondered how to work with it. The crowd chatted among themselves in this moment, still watching yet hushed. Waiting. He glanced at his father, he gave an encouraging nod; to his lesser, he simply flashed him a smile and outstretched his arms a bit more.

He can do this.

The child lowered it and thrusted it out before him, stepping forward. And so, he crudely drew a spade, hazy blue colors unraveling at the end. Perhaps if he were to be on television, he'd say, 'and you're watching,' but before ever getting to say what it was, he'd yelp when the strings pinched together and flared in all directions, bulleting far and far. The dragon above had not been forgotten; it whirled in the air and exploded and shattered fragments of the string spun with each other, only to fall fragile like an hourglass, climbing to be Lancer's new cloak to match his father's. The other dripping strings snaked across the ground and over quilts, blooming into flora with the smallest of buttons and other suits budding along with them.

Pleased, he continued to wave the wand from side to side, sweeping the air and creative waves of light and spirals and others that had been so carefully fabricated through the magic of the entertainers. Down the steps Jevil moved like a slinky: hands, feet, hands, feet, tail! Repeating and repeating as the staircase began to disappear with every step, and on the final one, he flipped himself once more into the air as Seam cast a spell of brilliant light, balls of yarn materializing and interweaving to create a great, barren tree.

Quickly, so quickly, his wand was returned to as the prince hurried to his dads, cloak billowing while the tree grew and grew. The jester crouched and lifted to the air, a spade in his left hand and a club in his right, winking to the crowd as they rocketed off like stars, twirling with each other as radiant ribbons trailed behind. They perched upon an end of the many branches from the newly made tree. The magician danced on his toes to where the other was, aligning with him still facing the crowd, yet now directly in front of the base of the tree. He clapped his paws and crossed his wrists and opened his arms wide, both a heart and diamond flying off to meet at the opposite ends of both spade and club.

Cued, the kings cast their own respective insignia, the tree beginning to grow with leaves of their kind. Darkners soon followed suit (ha!) and as if paper lanterns were being released: spades, hearts, clubs, diamonds, some circles and boxes and perhaps blades, they all began to settle in the blanket of branches. Among the darkness that had so engulfed them was this very light, exuding heat, inspiring a joyous hope.

Jevil fell to his feet and rolled under his partner's legs, rebounding off and singing. He clapped to the rhythm of the encircling diamonds that would hasten in its beat, weaving throughout the audience and encouraging them to join along in their little show. The doll remained where he was, leaping onto a lantern and casting a spell of mirrors that would rotate every so often to reflect the light of the tree into the people.

At last, at last! They cheerfully began to rise to the dance, a harmony forming in both their actions and words. Partners of two, three, groups and more; not one was alone, not one was without laughter. The land revolved with their thrilling dreams, their exuberant displays. Soon enough, he'd return to the tree to meet with his kitten and so many more who'd left their quilts, disregarding suits and ranks as they played among themselves. Seam tilted his head back with a titter and felt his soul flutter when the other gave his little bow, hand moving out to catch his own head that had sprung off with a sly wink.

"CARE TO DANCE WITH ME, ME?"

"Need you ask?"

With his head back where it was, the magician moved forward and took his hand into his paw, bringing it out. His other paw found itself on his waist, and his own waist had found Jevil's hand. Together they stepped, from left, right, backwards, forwards; a small box that soon had twists and twirls and spinning and more. They passed other partners and groups, and they made sure that while they did have their fun, that others were well alright. That the magic had not faded quite yet, and that their act had not closed quite yet. Breathless oh breathlessly, it was to be soon, soon. The curtains would not close, but their performance is soon done, done! (They were sure they’d heard and seen a bit of teasing, but alas…were they to be stopped for their actions? No, not at all.)

They parted after a while, and with a snap, the mirrors were removed, and the music softened.

The final praise; they bowed and gave their due finale. Above came decorations and decorations like the falling snow, strings of flora so heavy on the ground had floated into the air, spreading far and wide like dust. Some continued to dance, other resumed conversations upon quilts, and others rested on their backs and fronts and hooted in their own worlds. Now, now! The ground glittered with the remaining sparks of magic, glittering along and along. The tree still remained, and a few would choose to reveal their 'hidden' entertaining talent, if only to continue to toss up banter and memories between them. The main few of two jested among other small groups, mainly tending to the high rankings; regardless, for those hours they'd performed, they had their break. Left they left, to a spare tree, resting there against its bark.

Spring a bit loose, Jevil leaned his head on Seam's shoulder, unable to quite get himself calm. "WHAT A SHOW, WHAT A SHOW," he giggled, crossing his legs with his tail coiling around the other's. His partner sat upon the back of his legs, voice falling to a drawl.

"You did well."

"WE DID," he hummed.

Oh, how comforting it was to be with the other. They could not have had anyone else for their duo act, for they could not imagine a better jester, not a better magician in their time. Seeing others so satisfied beyond expectations came as a relief. Looking to his light, Jevil slipped a hand into his paw. Thumbed it. Loved how the other so grew closer if only to feel the touch a bit more. A ginger squeeze, and he'd continue up the arm with the sleeve rolling back, feeling for any odds and ends.

Seam closed his eyes and sighed.

"STRING."

Of course. A needle and thread came forth and was handed to the other, and he stretched it out a bit more for convenience. A rip across the forearm, not enough that his cotton had spilled, but enough for the stitches to be nearing its last fight. Jevil huffed through his teeth and glowered at the sight, beginning to patch him up with the utmost focus. He'd done it so many times it came easy, but oh, how he wasn't so very fond of the lack of care. While he waved the needle in and out with the faintest of sensations pricking throughout him, Seam spoke.

"Only tore near the end... 's not too bad," he wanted to reassure. Jevil only clicked his tongue and shook his head, finishing up and biting off the string when he'd completed his suturing. He felt for anything strange once more, and upon finding nothing, both needle and thread disappeared.

"STILL, STILL." He gently nuzzled into his cheek and wrapped around him. "I'D RATHER YOU NOT FALL APART AT THE 'SHAWMS'!" Which really shouldn't be a possibility, but he so often forgot to maintain himself. Maybe as an excuse, but it happened so frequently in times nearing shows. He...worried, really!

Seam purred appreciatively. "Thanks, you wild card."

This moment, the Darkners, his partner, and all much more; such festivities came remarkable—working til’ they both fell was always well worth it. Seeing everyone this jubilant was something for him to add to the records. A story to retell. In that very distance, a prince and his lesser dad began to approach, a broad and toothy smile with vigor in every step.

"Ho, ho, ho!"

"Goode tidings we bringst," Rouxls said, smiling almost apologetically. They didn’t even bring gifts! Nevertheless, he didn’t wish to interrupt them on their break after such grand theatrics they’d put on. Alas, alas, he was in the king’s stead for the time being, for the four were tending to their people. Even if the King so wished to be with Lancer—he would do it later. Later, when they would call each other names relative to food and he’d quietly gush over his son while he sat upon his shoulder gripping the material of his cloak, vividly telling him about his day with rapture with the worm man standing by—filling in occasionally for the details that he may not remember. They’d have to take a raincheck on all that for now though.

"THE PRINCE, PRINCE!" Jevil dove in and hoisted the prince up to the card’s shoulder, cradling him in his arms with his tail bending across his rotund figure to tickle him at his nose.

Snorting, the prince fought his tail away—to no avail—and waved. “Hey, other dads! That was so cool!” And really, it was! He was so high up! Everyone looked so happy, too.

“Cool, hm…?” Seam set a paw under his chin and looked to the side momentarily, ears wiggling. He grinned and folded his arms behind his back. “Haha, s’pose so. Did you like anything in particular?”

"Oh!" There were so many things! How could he pick which one he had been so fond of the most? The dragon, the strings, the flowers, the tree, the suits, that time he was up above... "I liked the… what was it…” The young spade mimed with his hands—a rectangle in the air. What, was this a game of charades? How fun! The clown lifted a brow and created a little box for him, its shape elongating into what he gestured.

"The lanterns?" Lesser dad suggested.

"Yeah!” The prince drummed upon the tail, rocking in the arms. “They were so nice, and I just! Just—!” He sighed, leaning back and watching his cloak from before slip into nothing. Though he so loved it, it was far cooler to see it fade right before his stare. “Wow…!”

From where he had folded his arms, he’d reveal a lantern the size of the youngest’s torso, ushering it out unhurried, light already floating. Oh, how he always had so many to spare. It came level with his eyes. A light, a light with a spade the color of his attire on all four faces. His childish features slackened into that of wonder and question, and he reached out with a reluctant hand.  
"...For me?"

"FOR YOU, FOR YOU!" The tail nudged it to him, and Rouxls rested the tips of his fingers beneath the lamp, curling it even closer. He giggled, "A LIGHT FOR OUR LIGHT."

"Do you not wante it?"

Shaking his head, Lancer gasped. He immediately took it into his arms as if it were to fly away at any moment—away before he could ever grasp it. "No! I love it!" And he did, truly, he did, it was such a lovely gift, it was such a cool thing! He simply didn't have words, and, well. When he kept staring at it, he couldn't help but fidget and shyly look to Seam, face squishing a little. Could he ask? Would it be too much? They’d already done so much, but maybe he should at least ask. "...can I get another for my dad?"

"'Course!” Paws outstretched, another lantern created and weaved, quite alike, but this one with subtle inverted spades to border its edges.

"Thanks!" As that lantern was left to hover, the prince looked to the tallest and tapped his shoulder, leaning out of Jevil's arms a bit. "Lesser dad!" With a quirked brow from him, he outstretched the light they first gave him and grinned as wide as he possibly could. Tongue out and everything! A bit of an awkward look down—but his intents were pure. "This one's for you."

Rouxls stared at him, slaw-jacked and incredulous. Him? For him? He set his hands over his chest and held back tears—perhaps even a squeal. Delightful, delightful! “Oh, prince…!” He reached out and patted him on the head, moving back to hold the gift on his shoulder. Chuckling, Seam would mumble something about how sweet the motion was, and for that, he’d pull out a simple dark candy from behind Lancer’s head. With a cheer, he’d take it and tuck it away for later—saving it, to share with his dad.

Ah, but in the event of gift-giving...

From the depths of his cape so lined with suits and colors, Jevil removed a very familiar noodle. Oh! But the further inspection would tell: it was not a noodle! "WORM FOR YOUR WORM?" He’d say it so casually, so inquisitively—as if he were to head a stand at a bake sale.

Grumbling lightly, Rouxl’s face scrunched up into that of distrust and puzzlement. "I'd rather not takest it from you, but I giveth mine thanks regardless." As the devil placed it atop his shoulder with his tail, he took Lancer back, only to set him back on his feet and ruffle the top of his head (to which he gave no complaint).

"C'mon, let's give this to dad!" The young spade bubbled in place, only to kick and run off in a bout of impatience to show said dad, no matter what he may be doing. Rouxls only sighed with a smile, murmuring about how he’d be pleased with ‘thine gift.’ And oh, how he would be! Lancer had so happily, so proudly showed it to him—even when the King had been among others. No, no, none of them had minded the disruption, for Lancer was not a disruption!

A night, a night, oh, it was the world’s night.

Their break had ended. Wandering and wandering for their late hours, they entertained and entertained. Sometimes alone, sometimes together, at times nevertheless—exchanging playful smiles and yearning glances. Thus—a triumphant, brilliant spectacle! Later and later, with other Darkners they began to tidy up, many retiring as the festivities went on. It was only fair and proper; it was a reason for all of them to stay with each other a little longer without worrying of their class.

And now, now! Only them, only the two entertainers that so waited, so longed for their true moments before the curtains closed. The grand tree was long gone, and the grass at their feet glittered in the aftermath of magic—colors of all kinds. A lantern raised between them, a heart at its four corners: a combination of their magic, small but for final flair. Humming, Jevil clasped his hands behind his back and turned to the magician at his right. “SEAM?”

"Dance with me," Seam breathed, and the lantern rose above their heads as they took each other in their arms and, at such a slower pace, they began to move, the spotlight following in their dark. How closely they pressed against each other, how lovely it was to hold hands and paws and joke as the other's tail may brush against them. Quietly, softly, a mindful waltz of their own accord. There was nary an instrument to be heard but their laughter, letting the moment last. To keep holding the other’s paw and hand; to stay so near and dear. They could not peel away their gazes from each other, so locked and enamored that they’d not even check their footwork. Them, them, it was only them, and how earnest it was.

A step back, one forward, to the side—another parting. The magician spun his partner round and around, shifting into a deep dip where the jester wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressing his forehead against him. There, simply there. Jevil lifted off of his feet and giggled. Closer, closer, a kiss at his cheek, a kiss at the other cheek—fair, fair. A longer moment, a longer wait. Whispers of praise, whispers of sweet nothings. They shared another kiss as they melted into each other, the imp’s tail coiling into a heart, and a fiery flame fluttering throughout their souls to every inch of their frame. A seal, a seal, the finishing act. To move away, only to press into the other once more. That was that. Longer and longer they’d move along the night, but oh, how tired they both were, so mighty exhausted.

And so together, they, too, retired for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took... a mighty while and energy out of me, so I hope it was well worth your time! I'm really bad with responses, but thank you for sticking through, and I hope you have a lovely day!
> 
> for those with finals, I wish you the best of luck - take it easy on yourself if you can!


	9. seem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seems amiss. (angst)

His mitted fingers brushed against the back of his paw, featherlight, soft, subtle enough to pass it as a graze. The jester tittered as he looked up to his partner, so bathed in the heavenly light filtering through the trees, his stitched smile splitting and stretching further than the field of their hopes and dreams. Together again, together at last, the heroes long departed. Such a wrenching phrase that had been so easy to fall: “That’s nothing.” If only, to spur them enough into striking the ruling king down with him. To let him see, let him know. How the game of the world so changed—what had remained. 

It had been a fortnight since he’d reappeared at his Seap in his full glory, reveling in the way that the magician had acted as if he’d not seen him with the three before. Rejoicing, as if bringing the pining moon and sun together.

His crescent eyes lifted high as he bounced back into a float, bells ringing when he had cocked his head to the side and held his ankles close. He leveled himself as tall as the other, nudged him with the end of his tail, retreating once the doll’s softening gaze finally lingered upon him.

"DO YOU REMEMBER," Jevil breathed out, "WHEN WE HAD DANCED...?"

"Where the stars don't shine," he answered so effortlessly, a fond rumble growing in his chest. He pressed a paw to the end of his sleeved arm and sighed wistfully. “How could I ever forget it, friend?"

"WHERE WE HAD MET!"

His shining button twirled. "When I was practicing my craft."

With a satisfied trill, he swept away his paw and hushed.

This body so light yet heavy, oh, how he so tired. The rough-handling from the game before with the King had not helped, no-no. He ached and ached. Every intake and exhale stung, pierced him in pulsing waves. Nothing he could not handle, nothing he could not bear. Playing the part of a fool was his charge. To laugh off his miseries and woes in spite of all the cracks and fractures so long endured. Smile, smile, see to it more and more. To allow one to worry about him was unthinkable; to let someone unhappy within reach unthinkable. Funny and funnier, in the jests to distract himself, and in the spoken words so woven. 

"OH, KITTEN. WHAT A GAME WE PLAY, PLAY."

The cat paused in pondering, fleeting and eyeing. As if he were asking him to go on. Yet against it he had decided in the idling, chuckling carefully and shaking his head solemnly. “Indeed,” he would purr.

Jevil returned his laughter, hollow, so strained. How long, to keep up an act? How long, to keep up the show? In this precarious amble of theirs, how much more should they pirouette along? His hum of life so dimmed in these little lies that cradled them. Lies? Oh, but if he believed them for so long, then could they not be told as truths? A wonder it was to think of how long in their time had they been playing this muddled game.

A hazy, hazy memory.

Reflecting with the accompaniment of padding steps and the metronome of bells.

Slow, slow, so slow they would saunter.

They had danced more than where stars simply didn’t shine; they danced with their words—suits—souls. Not all times were pleasant, but that could be said of countless upon countless of things. To dance in kind, in mind, in light long before. Much more than the first, they had met lovingly. To meet with soft graces and warm embraces. Missing, yet missing, what came of it all after freedom was a chilling cold. A reprise with distant eyes.

To play as someone else was not quite difficult, especially in the one who entertained his numbering fun.

But oh, such lost affections, could they be comparable to that of one forgetting their small enchantments? The mindful way his world picked up on his cues and clues? Kept him grounded—made him sensible? Such expectations had fallen short into an endless void, an abysmal black as pitched as he saw to be. To see, to see—perhaps he should see elsewhere, perhaps he should see another way. How could he doubt the one he had so longed for? To gently pry and inquire—to dare think that this was not him? All other Darkners saw him as the same one they came to know and love.

But why wouldn’t he doubt this one? The one who could not answer in the ways he’d remember? The one whose laugh was just a pitch higher, a bit flat? The one who would not tell him why he’d locked him away—oh, but that made sense. Yet why? Why? So he should play a fool that was lost to time? His memory may fail and falter, but the moments he kept so close and dear—to have this one not return the same sentiments was a telltale. Perhaps he had been lying to himself for too much, too long, so much that his mind’s gone wrong.

It felt wrong; it felt right.

Did a fool like him have the right to consider, think, wonder, doubt and turn weary and pained and—

The mage motioned him close with a playful wave, glimmering a faint love. He broke his thoughts so patiently. So kindly he had waited, to return to their afternoon stroll once Jevil had returned to follow abreast him.

Ah. So then, he knew. Knew and knew, his player two, a world he revolved around in this caged game.

Seam had seemingly, not been replaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea of how easily replaced a toy/stuffed animal could be got tossed around again; thus, here's this vagueness!  
> I wish you all a pleasant and marvelous 2019 <3


	10. a kiss by the light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first smooch.

Quiet, quiet, quiet; it's their time together, their time alone.

How perfectly fine; they couldn't have better spent their time. To be with the other? Lo! That's the ideal! Softly and warmly they shared smiles beside the dim glow of a lantern, sprawled on the grass of the field so bent by the careful, whispering wind. Hazy, lazy, side by side in their distant stare to the blanket of a pitched nothing, something they had done so much younger.

Trees danced among themselves like sweeping waves of the shore; petals drifted in their musing; the sky, the dark, the nothing so speckled in the flecks of starry diamonds. Without a pattern. Innumerable. Enough for Jevil to always breathe out his counting before losing track under a giggle, squeezing back at a paw that intertwined with his hand. Enough that the jester would turn, merrily throw an arm over his doll, bring himself close, and lose himself in the gaze so much more marvelous than the galaxy above.

A brilliant smile split in a delighted trill.

"FOUND YOUR FAVORITE STAR YET, OH BRILLIANT SUN?"

For a moment, he paused, laughed with an ever-entrancing purr. To wiggle his ears and bring him even closer. To sigh so happily, "Pretending to be the fool again?" And how quietly the imp came to be, then, in his wonder and tapping motions for him to go on. Seam's grin curved his eyes and stretched far enough to reveal teeth. Daringly, his paw slipped to his porcelain cheek; thumbed it, drew circles there

"My love," he drawled, "I have always found my brightest northern star to be the one at my side!"

"NU-HA! YOU CHARMER!"

Warm, warmer, with the uneven rhythm of their souls so spinning with joy and in skipping and skipping. They want to do it, they want to, but should they go for it? How could they? It's never been suggested, but alas, beholding the other was simply enough for them; how could they want more? Feeling the other, to be by the other, to be with them, them!

And yet they caught each other's signs.

Jevil, so delicately pressing his forehead against his, humming lovingly and ever so slow. Leaning past, running butterfly kisses against his cheek.

Seam, so smoothing his look and nuzzling him while he was there and taking no mind to it all.

In that moment, they linger, linger longer, to meet together in a kiss—and to pull away after that very moment. How the heat so rushed to their features, how it so engulfed their beings! To do it again! And again! Every parting came with the slip of an “I love you!” and the escaping laughter; they want nothing more, then, than to take their chance by the reigns and shower their world in affection—embrace as much as possible.

It was only right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies it's real short oops; cleaned up for danni


	11. muted skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they find destruction. (angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning tags: implied/referenced harm, scars

Deep into their craft, the formally renowned entertainers, both court jester and mage respectively, had been together for quite some time. In past, present—rehearsing together, acting together—it was more often than not they were seen with the other. Their respects stretched deeply, and they knew not to push upon certain matters. To have their subtle ways of expression. To say things that only the other could catch. Do things only the other could see. Polite-polite; they never really pried in the past of their lives.

Sometimes, they would ask for a bit of help to fit into their attire.

Only for the excuse of being a little close—a little bit of contact. By then they're dressed. Oh, but the minor, minor details—they always so conveniently needed readjusting! A tuck here, tuck there, a little ol' straightening right over here. Modesty and decency; how would they ever live without it? Their dressing room was divided into two clear halves: one of chaotic disarray, and the other organized accordingly with a few odds and ends. They always faced their own halves and almost never tried to see the other when changing—it would be rude! Awkward!

Time after a show then, a pin dropped from the doll's paws and a murmur of profanity would slip, Jevil laughing out a playful rebuke. Such language in their room? He'd earn a reprimanding for it later, no doubt—a pat on the wrist at most. But where did it go? It had to have rolled somewhere, he'd mused silently, crouching down and groping the ground blindly. Sure, he had enough of them, but he also had no plans on accidentally stepping on one again, albeit that would be more effective… Behind him perhaps? Turning, his lips curled as he spotted it with its glimmer.

There it is.

With a sudden curiosity peaking in him enough to perhaps kill, he spared a shy glance to his partner. His muzzle warmed; oh, he shouldn't look—! Yet how quickly it would die down, widening gaze trapped on the spider webbing fractures and carvings of the imp's back. Heavier and heavier his cotton felt at the strange dullness and discoloration of his form, the ink stains decorating him like clover—were those marks chiseled in? The pin he'd picked up had long fallen, and he wondered how he had endured such damage. Recent? Long ago? Who'd done it? Racing and racing—oh, it was not good.

He knew well enough how fully Jevil was accustomed to playing the fool. Knew that even when the kings and other Darkers subtly told him they wouldn't mind if he'd cut back (not stop altogether, for they knew it would never work)—lessen up on the parts where he'd so hurt himself. To play it off as an accident, a part of his act, to feign that he'd never been in pain. At this point perhaps, perhaps not, but still, yet still. He'd known him for so long, yet how could it have gotten so-so bad? How long had he kept up the act? Masked the damage with illusions? In the past that he remembered, he couldn’t recall it ever being—

"SEAM?"

His thoughts shattered, ears flicking high and low. He didn't know when Jevil had asked him something—looked over his shoulder at him with concern to why he's said nothing—and ah, how he saw then the delicate damage to his spring. Scratch marks and cuts to his rings and coil—wasn't his neck so painfully sensitive?

"…HA HA! LOOKING AT THE GOODS, SEAM, SEAM...?"

The devil gave his trill, tilting his head and giving his few hollow knocks against his chest.

"IF YOU WANT, YOU COULD HAVE, HAVE A GO, TOO!"

"Never," he said, the worried frown of his stitching much more prominent, his soul sinking and anchoring low. His buttoned eye glared amber as he stood, his paws kneading slowly into his clothes. He dropped his voice softly with the uneasy fall of his features. "What d'ya think of me to ask something like that?" And he quieted, then. The smile didn't quite reach his crescents, his tail laid low at his heels, his resigned hands came to his sides—dug into his trousers. The magician found himself a little closer. Found himself in dismay.

"Is," he grasped for his words with a strain, "is it okay if I—"

"IS THAT RHETORICAL? GO AHEAD!! HAVE A LITTLE FUN!"

Drawing out a sigh, Seam solemnly patted him on the back of his head in heatless scolding. "Ain’t planning to lay my paws on you like that ever." To hear the imp breathe out his apology and shrink just the slightest into himself, he felt a gripping sensation at his heart, and he whispered that it was alright. Why would he apologize anyhow? What was there to apologize for? Oh, he hated to hear such words directed at him, but alas.

He rested a paw between his shoulders, at first, and would retreat the instant he saw and felt Jevil tense. Another apology, only for it to drift into an unsure giggle. To try it again after a pause; a little less of a reaction this time, and he'd began to trace his back without ruining it any further. Deeper and deeper, ridges upon ridges, almost as big than the handle of a fool's Devilsknife. The faint way the porcelain came to tug at his palms where they were particularly jagged and cracked. He supposed such a body was expected to endure such fate after all these years. Deafeningly quiet, he continued to familiarize himself. To subtly allow magic to pool into his very touch, to subtly bring warmth to create a way of healing; he knew it was in vain. These were untended for far too long to have any real way of being mended, and Jevil was certainly not the type to go to anyone for help concerning it.

"What happened...?" he asked, sliding his paw to his shoulder and gently turning him to be able to see his front. He could not help how his stifled gasp. Twisting and twisting, sickening, and how he wanted and wished that it had suffered less destruction. What was this piercing pain through his soul? What was all of this on his partner? Silence, still. Taking it.

He eventually piped, "I PROMISED, PROMISED." Promised not to tell. Not to others. Promised to himself and only himself to never let Seam know too much. To let anyone know, really! He chuckled flatly. Why would he want to subject anyone to worry? To think he wasn't okay? He was! He was fine. He was still alive; he didn't hurt as much as before. Weren't all of these just funny decorations? He's... art! Literally! A walking exhibit; just see and look at all of these delicately cruel pieces he wore!

But of course he knew.

He's sure the jester saw the works on him, too. They were so senseless. They were so dumb, dumb to ever allow any of it. (But how could they have ever refused? Refuse to serve?) In a shaky sigh, he came to inspect the other as he would simultaneously and carefully prod at his plush frame with mothering hands. Hammered parts and jagged lines and missing shards—chips. Indentions and harsh marks and faded scars—lines. The unclear designs of other suits, other Darkners? Longer and further his stare traveled, slowly and slowly fanning the flame of resentment within.

Brushing over the hearts and diamonds and spades and clubs, Jevil quickly split a smile and shot, "THEY KNOW BETTER NOW. IT WAS YOUNGER, YOUNGER. NEVER DID IT AGAIN! UEE HEE."

That didn't make it any much better; it hadn't changed much at all. He continued his inspection. The imp was being honest enough, he supposed, but none of this could have been just due to the harsh way he overexerted himself in practice and breathing and in being alive. Couldn't have just been from being a fool and using magic 'til the reserves were strained, or falling, falling, and falling, colliding. Marks he saw, marks foreign and unrecognizable to anyone he could think of to possibly mar him in such a way.

Distant and bitter his words fell, a gentle hiss in its edge.

"Lightners, ha ha...?"

How disdainfully familiar he was with the extent of their cruelty. Even among the gods more benevolent and kinder, the injury struck more hot red memories. He had to have nailed the mark. Had to have been right, what, with the freezing silence he'd received in answer. To his loudening snarl, the jester merely snickered—stopped—slapped a weak hand to the patch of his head.

"GRIP—" he squeaked, the very mage blinking in his daze. "CLAWSCLAWSYOURCLAWS—" Seam recoiled from the blazing fire and set his paws into his wrists, breaking fabric and sinking them deep into wrists.

There at his side, almost a few new holes, regarded as the barest of indentions.

They were from him, him.

He had been hurting him.

He hurt him.

Apologies strung out from him in regretful horror, and oh, how he dug into his own as if it could make up for it, yet the imp sought his paws and held them. He made certain he wouldn’t be able to go so much further like he’d done before in the past. (If he wanted to hurt something, it should be him and not his being of cotton!)

Yes, yes, he was well aware of what the doll could do to himself so easily.

Calm down, calm down, the jester echoed the mantra, interlacing hands with paws and dropping his gaze, not wanting to see all the new (new? but they were not new, he'd seen them before and had tried to forget them!) blends of expressions the feline's given already. So flat were his ears, so bristled was his tail, his quivering having not stopped throughout it all. If he had known he would react in such a way, he would have been more careful, would have dressed... elsewhere! Would have kept it between himself and the Kings and a few others, not that they ever knew the extent of the damage as much as Seam now did.

But why did he worry, anyway?

It was his role!

His job. His fate, and the way. If it meant the fun and entertainment of others, why stop them? He didn't understand (but he did) what it all would really do. Sure it may have hurt and it wasn't fun for him and the thought of it all chilled and terrified him sometimes—sometimes? No, no, never! Shaking? Because he was excited! Laughing? Because it was so fun! That's right! All these became the truth once it was told enough!

"IT WAS ALL, ALL IN GOOD FUN, FUN…!"

For them, for them, for them. Such is his fate, his purpose, this body of being a Darkner and a toy; he was never a true favorite, really. To be played with and thrown away! If that's how he is to be used, then very well! He never could see how everyone else found it so strange he didn't mind it. (Oh, but he did mind! Minded it so much, but after so-so-sososo long, why would he ever stop and ruin their fun?) And how could he want to be thrown away? Discarded? He wanted to be useful, needed to be useful—to be useless meant to be nothing to the standards of himself. A jester, a joker; he's sure to be tossed out eventually, but still, still!

Surely, he knew it all too well, too.

"SEAM, YOU CAN'T TELL ME OTHERWISE WHEN YOU, YOU—"

"That's different," he said a bit too quick, quieter, now, a little more still.

And it wasn't, not really, no, but in a way, it was.

His circumstances were different. Kinder, even. His condition can be restored with enough care; the jester's? Unique. When Jevil was sure that he wouldn't try to shred himself by the wrists again, he released his paws, reluctantly. To let him hold his paws together as he now inspected his own wounds and sentiments, his patchworks. Much harder, harder to see what had ever truly happened to him, thankfully, but it sunk his soul all the same to see the crescents that had always been so high invert into sorrowful dips.

Every gentle touch at his plush being resurfaced a memory. The harsh and hard stitching hidden across arms; failed tricks and pushing too hard. His missing eye; oh, how it was so torn away despite how he'd clawed and clawed and begged them to let him be and let go. The stitched scar along his opposite; tearing and tearing from a particularly low point. Nothing was new. It always came to be the same sharp hands and twisting and fraying and scooping and—

He's not sure when Jevil had stopped to hold his face in both of his hands, hands that pressed thumbs against the cotton seemingly spilling from his old wounds. How uncomfortable it was for the both of them. To reveal sides they so guarded and kept away from anyone—to break character and create such a palpable tension. How could they have ever let the other worried? Let the other apologize?

That was enough for one hour, and that would be that.

Nothing more.

"Sorry, my furriend."

"I'M SORRY TOO, PAWL."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woosh this is messy, let me know if I need to add any other warnings in the beginning


End file.
